


Closure

by titC



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Matt's absence, Pepper is awesome, post defenders S1, the weight of a secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Karen & Foggy have to go to a Stark event, and learn something unexpected.





	Closure

**Author's Note:**

> Karen is an interesting, complex character; i tried to reflect that.

 

Karen really didn’t want to go, but Ellison was the boss and his word law or well, something like it. At least she should listen to him sometimes, just so she could work on whatever she pleased the rest of the time.

What should she wear? It was a Maria Stark Foundation gala, where the rich and beautiful would flock and titter and be so very boring. She needed to be invisible, and Ellison had said she was the Bulletin’s best bet for the job: young and beautiful, he’d said, but also very good at spotting what people wanted to keep hidden (unless it was hidden from _her_ , in which case the obvious could slap her in the face and she’d never even see it.)

So, a dress that would look new and flattering, make-up and shoes feminine but a bit demure. She was aiming for the shy girl from old money look, here to represent the family while mom and dad where away; so – widen the eyes, add some blush on her cheeps, soft pink gloss… yes.

Of course, she would be there as a journalist and not actively hide it from anyone, but she would also certainly not tell. She’d hear things, and most people there wouldn't know what not to say in front of her. They wouldn't know to be on their guard. They'd never even remember her afterwards.

She smiled in the mirror, a smile that was far too predatory to be allowed out later at the gala, but hey: she was a shark in disguise, about to swim among glittery, sequined fish; and she’d follow the smallest drop of blood in there.

 

As she’d expected, it was hard not to feel a little overwhelmed at first. So many people and hors-d’œuvre, so much money and champagne… she dropped her chin a little as she entered, kept her eyes slightly downcast and darting left and right like a lost deer, and dove in.

 

“Karen?”

She almost dropped her glass. “Foggy? Hey! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good. You?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Here on the job?” he asked.

“Yep. Boss’s orders.”

“Aw, I feel you. All my firm’s lawyers were invited – well, requested to show up.” He made a face. “So I guess I’m on the job, too. _Schmoozing_.”

“Maybe we can help each other, then,” she said.

“Provide distraction from the boredom?” He picked up two fresh glasses as a waiter walked by and handed her one.

“And spot the unusual and juicy. There have been rumors about Avengers business recently and also Stark’s company, so I’m supposed to fish for that.”

“All right, I’ll keep an ear out for you then. Cheers,” he added as their delicate, expensive, flutes rang together.

“To absent friends,” she mouthed, and his sad smile made her feel cruel: Foggy didn't deserve her bitterness.

 

Karen did was she was there to do for a couple hours, joining a few conversations as Foggy’s unofficial plus one and doing her best to look nonthreatening and sweet (she was very good at it, as she well knew). Foggy’s presence was a great help, really: she never had to mention what her job actually was, and once introduced she could do her thing on her own. Oh yes, I have experience in law, oh yes, he’s already suggested I try law school, he’s very supportive. Classic arm candy stuff, never one lie; it worked like a charm. They soon forgot she was there and listening, and listen she did.

Foggy joined her again at the open bar and told her about a few interesting things he’d heard himself – two companies planning a merger, a museum curator not invited anymore for very hush-hush reasons… but no superhero business. _That_ was a relief.

She went on to play the somewhat naive, wide-eyed, new to this world girlfriend and texted her boss from the restroom: a few things to investigate, nothing they’d actually expected. He immediately texted her back that she must be doing it right then, and she was smiling a little as she went back into the main room.

It was time for the big speeches, and she figured she should give them if not all, at least part of her attention; and who knew? Stark could do something outrageous and Stark-like again. Instead, as soon as she’d reached Foggy, Ms Potts herself appeared in from of them.

“Ms Page, Mr Nelson,” she said, poised and polite.

“Um. Hello, hi! Ms Potts, yes!” Karen’s lips twitched, but she tried to contain her smile. Surprised Foggy tended to forget he was a respected, successful lawyer from one of the biggest New York firms now, and it was kind of cute to see him become tongue-tied again. She missed the old Foggy, she even missed his longer hair.

“Ms Potts,” Karen said once Foggy had finished stuttering and staring at the CEO and he’d shaken her hand. She was surprised to see such a powerful, busy woman actually knew who they were. Didn’t she have bigger things to worry about and bigger people to talk to?

“I’m glad you both could make it tonight,” Ms Potts said. “Would you like to join me for a little tour of the art we’re going to auction tonight?”

Foggy raised his eyebrows. Like, Karen, he was feeling there was more to it than modern art they couldn't afford to buy anyway. “Sure, lead the way,” he only answered.

Ms Potts led them out into a corridor that took them to a small, but clearly well-used office. “Don’t worry about missing the speeches, it’s the most soul-crushing part and it’s frowned upon to drown your boredom at the open bar.” She waved them not at the desk, but at the couch and armchairs around a low table. “I can send you videos tomorrow if you’d like, Ms Page.” Karen nodded. “Drinks?”

Foggy and Karen exchanged a glance. “We’re good, thanks,” he said.

“All right.” She poured herself something that looked like tomato juice or maybe a Bloody Mary before seating herself in front of them. “I assume you’re wondering why I… extracted you from there.” She took a deep breath and set her glass on the coffee table. “I have an idea of what it’s like to fear for someone who’s putting themselves into danger for, perhaps, good reasons, for the greater good and such but – not their own.”

Foggy frowned, and Karen shared the feeling. What was she aiming at?

Ms Potts went on. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to start that conversation. A few months ago, Tony was testing drones – not a Big Brother kind of thing,” she added when Karen opened her mouth. “There are many buildings that need repairs in the city and could even be a danger to people, especially after these last few years. Doing thorough checks takes a lot of time and people, and we’re all stretched thin here in New York. He thought he should find a quick and cheap way to spot where the city services should send repair crews first, find the places that need shoring up or should be torn down, for example, before more people die.”

“I don’t understand, don’t you have a legal department in Stark Industries?”

“We do, and I didn’t bring you here to talk about that, really. Although we can schedule an interview with the Bulletin if you'd like, Ms Page. It’s just so you know how it happened.”

“Um, yes, thanks, that would be great.” City-related and alien attacks-related: Ellison would love it.

“All right.” Ms Potts picked up her glass again before continuing. “So one night, Tony was monitoring how a test drone was doing, and… Daredevil was on the roof of a warehouse, and at one point his helmet got kicked off.” Foggy inhaled sharply. “Yes, he saw his face, and could identify him.”

“That’s not good,” Foggy breathed.

“Well, yes and no. Tony called me to talk about what we should do, and we immediately decided to keep his secret. Any other camera in the area was too far away to see more than what was already known – white man, medium height kind of thing – so we didn’t touch that. The police helicopters were also too high to see much, so they weren’t an issue either. But Tony hacked into your friend's phone company records and made it look like he was calling someone – generally you, Mr Nelson – while Daredevil was out a few times, that kind of thing. Enough to keep people away from your friend, hopefully.” She looked down. “Tony and I… you have our sincere condolences. Really. He asked me to talk to you without him because he didn’t want to make it too conspicuous, but trust that I’m speaking for the both of us.”

“Thank you.” Karen’s eyes were dry, too dry. Foggy’s were not.

Ms Potts didn’t say anything for a minute, letting the muffled sounds of the gala fill the silence between them. “There’s more,” she finally went on. “SI is one of the companies working on the Midland Circle site. We know his body hasn’t been found yet, and we don’t know _who_ will be found, if we do.”

Karen had wondered about it, too. Would he be identifiable, if they found his body? She couldn't help hoping that maybe, somehow, he’d escaped, but of course… yeah. She'd seen it, the mountains of broken concrete and rebar and ash, so much ash. She’d heard what Jessica and the others had said too, that he’d stayed behind to keep the last of the Hand from escaping and going after them. That he’d sacrificed himself.

She’d also heard Luke mention a she, and she’d pieced it all back together – she was good at that, after all. It had to be that Greek woman Foggy had told her about, the apparently-not-dead ex that had almost broken him back when they were students. The woman who’d always made him become someone else, but maybe also someone he’d always been: the thrill-seeker, the fighter, the man who did as he wanted, whatever the cost to himself and his friends. The woman who’d made gentle, sweet Matt fade away behind Daredevil.

She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t. She knew she couldn't have competed with any of it. But really… _who_ was buried under all that rubble, the slabs of concrete, down a hole so deep he couldn't have got out of it in time? Probably not Matt, suit or not. Probably not Matt, because Matt had never really existed, had he? Maybe he’d been sincere with Karen, maybe he’d answered her cautious flirting because he thought it would work between them; but it hadn’t, because it couldn’t. She tried not to be bitter about that. (She failed.)

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know you two were very close to him.”

“Yeah, Karen answered. She’d lost him before that building collapsed on him anyway. She wasn’t even sure she’d ever had a chance with him.

Foggy cleared his throat. “You know, a friend told me that Matt loved New York and the people in it very much, and himself not enough.”

“He didn’t love _us_ enough,” Karen blurted out.

After a beat, Ms Potts inhaled sharply and smiled, although it looked a little too shark-like to be nice. “To do what they do… it costs them, you know. But whatever the price, they’re willing to pay it, because they believe it’s worth it for too many people to ignore. I’ve never doubted Tony’s affection, before or after we got together; and neither have his friends.”

Foggy looked away from Karen and wiped his own surprise from his face. “It’s just so recent, we’re still in shock.”

“Of course.”

Karen didn’t answer, and kept her eyes down on her knotted fingers. Those fingers, she knew, could kill and write and could love, too. She didn’t need to explain or justify herself.

“Well,” Ms Potts said. “Tony and I just wanted to let you know that we’ll do anything in our power to help keep his identity in the dark. We know the damage it could do to both your and Mr Murdock’s reputations, and your lives. If we… find him, we’ll be there too. We’ll help keep this secret, and you, safe.”

Foggy looked sad, but the good kind of sad; the kind where you accept what is and are willing to forgive the bad and remember the good. Karen… Karen couldn't, and her shock and sadness were not the only thing she felt, although she tried to hide it.

Ms Potts led them back to the main event where the speeches were wrapping up, and they both spent the rest of the evening lost in thoughts. Karen declined his lukewarm invitation for a last drink, and she tried to focus on her future. The past… there was nothing she could do about it, after all.

 

A week later, Karen’s phone vibrated on her desk. She was in the middle of finishing an article for the next day, and so she didn’t check the message until an hour afterwards.

“Karen,” it said. “It’s Foggy. Karen, they’ve found something. Can we meet tonight? At, say, 8pm at Josie’s, for old times’ sake? Let me know as soon as possible.” His voice was shaky, and she immediately texted she’d be there. She’d even be on time if she hurried, and hurry she did.

“Hey,” he said when she slid onto the barstool where a beer was already waiting for her.

“Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner, you sounded… Foggy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong _wrong_ , or I mean, not wronger than usual. It’s just, well, Ms Potts called this morning and asked to meet. She gave me this,” he said as he patted an overnight bag set on a stool next to him. Karen looked at it. It was a nondescript brown leather bag, the kind many people had in their closet. Its only possibly interesting feature was the white dust in the creases, as if someone had given it a perfunctory wipe-down without actually caring about cleaning it. It had been – oh.

“It was… there?”

“Yeah. It’s the bag I used to bring Matt’s suit to the precinct.”

“And in it…?”

“His Matt clothes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She turned her cold beer in her hands. “I didn’t know it was you who… I thought you didn’t like him doing that either.”

“I don’t. _Didn’t_ ,” he corrected himself. “But he felt he had to and I’m not sure he was wrong, at least not on that day. He needed that suit and… at least, it was protection. He never was bulletproof or super strong or anything like that, even if he behaved like it. And you _know_ he’d have gone without it anyway.”

“It was protection, yes, but not enough against an entire building falling on him.”

“Look, it’s not like anything could protect against that.” Foggy’s face was pinched and sour. “I’m blaming myself too, you don’t need to tell me – yes, I enabled him. Yes, I brought him the suit, I basically told him to go for it. Told him, _do your thing, Matt_. But what else should I have done? _What_ , Karen?”

She sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. We couldn’t have stopped him.” _We didn’t matter enough_ , she thought.

“I don’t think anyone or anything could have.”

“Yeah.” They finished their first beer in silence.

“So, under all that rubble, they’ll find… him, and they’ll take the mask off,” she said after they'd ordered a second round.

“It’s a risk, but Ms Potts said they were handling it. I think if they do find him, they’ll say they couldn't ID the remains, or that they just found a piece of his suit. She insisted they had gotten entire control of the operation, and that they had tech to check whether there were, ah, biological remains to try and preserve before moving big blocks of concrete and risking crushing bodies. If there’s anything to find, they’ll find it. They'll find _him_. They’ll hide him.”

“All right.”

“And maybe… maybe they won’t find anything.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. I hope, I think? But I’m scared of hoping, because not finding him isn’t conclusive. It just means we wouldn't know for sure. I – I don't know, Karen. I just wish… I just… wish.”

“Yeah.”

Josie slammed two more bottles down in from of them. “Not doing credit anymore, understand? You’re a fancy lawyer boy now.”

“Sure am, Josie; thanks.” They saluted her with their beers before clinking their bottles together. “You know what the worst is?” Foggy said. “No church service. He’s listed as missing, possibly lost in the rubble around the block along with the other people unlucky enough to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he can’t be declared… not yet. And Matt – fuck.”

“What about that priest at Ben’s funeral? Matt knew him, right?”

“Yeah. I think they often talked.”

“Maybe we could ask him for something, then. Not a, you know, but just… a little remembrance thing, maybe?”

“We could – we could do that, yeah, definitely. Karen, that’s a great idea!”

He smiled for the first time that evening, and Karen felt better.

 

They buried the bag with his clothes, a Braille bible, one of his father’s boxing gloves, and a folding cane under a tree in the churchyard. Father Lantom had had a little plaque engraved with a blindfolded man holding scales on it. The figure had two locks of hair sticking up on each side of his forehead.

He’d known, too. He’d known.


End file.
